Hey, you, over there, taking the photos of your lil’ punkin in the pumpkin patch, put down the camera and step away from that cute family moment.

I’m doing you a favor here. You may think that this is the beginning of a great family tradition that will last a lifetime but really you are merely starting down a path that will lead to pain and misery.

Seriously.

Sure, right now it’s adorable to watch your 2-year-old try to lug that ten pound pumpkin and to see your daughter grinning from ear-to-ear as you lift her overhead to reach the apple at the top of the tallest tree in the orchard.

But right now doesn’t last forever…they eventually become teenagers and that’s when the fun ends.

The child who one day loved all of your family traditions will turn on you the next day and demand that you stop engaging in traditional family activities that bore them/embarrass them/make them hate you because you are making them participate.

Just save yourself the pain of one day trying to get your teenagers to go pick out a pumpkin with you or go apple picking or decorate the Christmas tree while sipping hot cocoa and listening to Christmas music.

They won’t do it.

“But you LOVE apple picking,” you will remind your 15-year-old and he will look at you as though the very idea of eating an apple is repulsive and you have lost your mind because he never, never, ever enjoyed that activity.

“Help me put out the Halloween decorations, please,” is met with: “Why would we put out decorations? We aren’t little kids anymore—mom.”

Last year I “threatened” (i.e. screamed for a good 30 minutes) to take away Christmas unless someone helped me decorate the tree; five minutes later the tree was decorated but it was shrouded by a cloud of disdain for all things jolly.

At that point I officially hated Christmas.

Eventually your teenagers’ contempt for your heart-warming family traditions—the traditions you lovingly developed to create routine and joy in their lives—will just suck the joy out of the season.

So what do you do when the family traditions you’ve created no longer fit your family (but you still want them – damn it!)?

You could:

A) Have every family tradition involve a gift exchange because, somehow, my family is still ok with the traditions of gift giving for Christmas and Hanukkah.

B) Wait until you have grandchildren and do it all over again while secretly waiting for the day that your child calls you in a huff because his kid won’t pick out a pumpkin without several friends in tow. (This, of course, is my personal favorite.)

Or,

C) You could just adapt.

Unfortunately, option “C” eventually wins.

Until recently, I never thought about not being with my children for a holiday but, of course, my husband and I did that to our parents once we started dating. We had to divide our time between events or, as was often the case once we had kids, trade off between families every year. We solved the agony of making three Thanksgiving stops by forcing everyone to come to our house but even that has changed, as our siblings have had to adapt to their own extended family plans.

But significant others aren’t the only ones who force changes on family traditions. Once my son left for college even something as silly as giving him a half-birthday cake on his half-birthday (one of my favorite traditions) turned into a logistical nightmare since it fell on a weekend and I couldn’t send a homemade half cake. I compromised by sending a half-dozen cupcakes from a local bakery but that turned a simple idea into quite a pricey event and, besides, it just wasn’t the same.

But what about when he studies abroad and isn’t home for Thanksgiving? Or what if he decides to stay for Christmas in his new locale? How will I manage to arrange for his favorite holiday tradition, hanging his stocking on his door for Christmas morning?

It just occurred to me that there will come a day when my boys will not wake up in my house on Christmas morning and their stockings will sit on the mantle, unfilled, as mere decoration, much the same way our uncarved pumpkins decorate our porch now.

“It’s what’s supposed to happen,” my husband just said to me. Clearly, he isn’t quite as moved by this as I am.

Screw that.

I changed my mind. I’m not going with option “C,” I’m going with option “A” above. A little bribe, I mean gift, could go a long way.

Autumn, “the season formerly known as my favorite,” is just not the same now that my kids are older.

Before I had kids autumn was amazing: apple picking with my husband seemed so romantic, driving through a picturesque little town to take in the dazzling fall colors was a highlight of the season, and there was nothing more fun than finding the perfect costume for a Halloween party. Then, once I had kids, everything fall-like got even better – and adorable!

Is there anything cuter than a toddler at a pumpkin patch,

Or a little kid in a furry Halloween costume trying to sneak a piece of candy,

Or hoisting your baby up as he reaches for the perfect apple at the top of a tree in an apple orchard?

No, there’s not.

Kids are adorable in the fall.

Sulking teenagers are not; nor, as it turns out, do they want to participate in those fun, fall festivities – especially not with their parents.

I found that out the hard way.

See, I love apple picking – any fruit picking, actually. My dad would take us miles out of our way if he saw a sign that there was fruit to be picked. We would head home with crates of strawberries, peaches, apples – anything we could pick that was in season.

I loved those days.

When I had kids I tried to recreate those moments as much for myself as my boys. Every September, from the time that my oldest was about six-months-old we would go apple picking. We would come home with so many apples that I would eventually get sick of anything apple related. But that didn’t matter because it was about so much more than just apples.

It was shared family time and the boys loved it (well, I’m not sure about the six-month-old but, boy, was it cute!). Post-picking we would savor warm cider donuts, pick out pumpkins to bring home and put on our porch, and even enjoy a pony ride!

Every kid’s dream!

Until they are 14-years-old, apparently. Who knew?

This year, at the first hint of cooler temps and falling leaves I felt the pull to head to the nearest orchard and fill a bushel with apples.

“Who’s with me?” I asked my family enthusiastically.

Nothing.

“Come on!” I said to my one and only teen who still lives at home. “It’ll be fun!”

“Can I bring a friend?” he asked.

“Sure! The more the merrier!” I said.

I’m an idiot.

(Note: When your teen asks if he can bring a friend (or two) that means that he will not be spending any time with you. Bring your own friend – just saying.)

I, of course, didn’t know this as I planned our outing. I was still optimistic. I had visions of the group of us rambling through the apple orchard searching for the as yet untouched tree dripping with apples, it’s limbs sagging from the weight of the perfectly ripened fruit. I imagined that my son, his friends and I would see this tree from afar and get giddy at the sight of it. We would rush to the tree and fill our bags to the brim with the most perfect apples – stealing a bite or three of one of the apples and sighing with delight.

This is how it actually went down:

We got to the orchard and they went ahead without me.

I let them go because I realized, as we piled out of the car, that my son wanted to be with his friends. Sure, I could have tagged along but no one would have a good time.

So, I let them go.

But I still wanted to find that damn tree with the perfect apples! I could have gone into the store and simply bought a bag of apples but it seemed silly to have driven all that way and not, at least, walk into the orchard.

As I trudged through the apple orchard – alone – carrying my little plastic bag I tried not to look too creepy while families with young children walked by. I figured if I looked up and down every row it would look like I simply lost my group not that I had been abandoned. The last straw was when the guy driving a tractor full of apple pickers yelled out to me, “Where’s the rest of your group? Did they leave you?”

Pathetic.

All was not lost, however. I did find my perfect little tree full of apples and I filled my bag to the brim. I even got my warm cider donut – which I ate in the car, by myself, while I waited for the boys.